


All That Glitters

by safarikalamari



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: (I guess...), Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Animal Transformation, Blood and Injury, Canon Compliant, Getting to Know Each Other, Hunters & Hunting, Injury Recovery, Loneliness, M/M, Magic, Non-Human Jaskier | Dandelion, One Shot, Tropes, forest spirit, not graphic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-11
Updated: 2020-06-11
Packaged: 2021-03-04 01:28:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,576
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24655345
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/safarikalamari/pseuds/safarikalamari
Summary: Geralt needed food, that was all.He didn't expect to end up with something else on his hands.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 22
Kudos: 215





	All That Glitters

It had been four days since Geralt wandered into the forest.

There was a tug that drew him in, one he knew he shouldn’t trust but did so anyway. He ignored Roach’s protests, forgoed his usual path, all for what could just be a whim. Now, he was sure he was in the deepest of it, trees looming above, the sunlight still plentiful but fighting to get past the branches. 

With his destination unknown, supplies dwindled and Geralt was left with little choice for his next meal. Roach could graze on foliage all she liked, but Geralt needed more than that. There was nothing that smelled of danger, so camp was set up and by the next day, Geralt readied himself for hunting.

Geralt made his way through the forest, armed with his bow and arrow, his senses searching. Squirrels and rabbits ran by, but Geralt knew there was bigger prey afoot and he continued on. 

When Geralt spotted a flash of color, he ducked behind a tree and peeked around the trunk, almost not believing his luck. There, mindlessly searching the ground, was a golden deer. Its antlers stood proud, extending far out from its head, many pointed ends that showed its triumph in the forest. There could be no finer animal, and no finer meal in Geralt’s mind.

Taking a deep breath, Geralt lifted his bow and arrow, eyes locked on the deer. He pulled the string back, pausing for just a moment to make sure the deer was still grazing. When all went quiet, Geralt let the arrow go, his aim hitting true. 

The deer let out a strangled noise as the arrow struck its hindquarter and it fell into the bushes, a few birds scattering from the trees. Geralt was slow to stalk the deer, knowing that in a few moments, he’d have his chance to finish it off. However, as he got closer, Geralt knew something wasn’t right. His skin prickled as a heavy scent overwhelmed him, magic and old spirits rolled into one. Ducking his head, Geralt cursed himself before he shoved through the foliage, his breath catching in his throat at the sight before him.

On the ground lay a man, unclothed and an arrow lodged in his thigh. His pale skin was a stark contrast to the brown mop of hair on his head and his eyes, wet with tears, shone a brilliant blue. He shrank at the sight of Geralt, trying to crawl away, but his pain slowed him down. 

“I’m not going to hurt you again,” Geralt attempted to reassure him. 

The wound was becoming more agitated as the man tried to escape from Geralt, blood trailing down his leg. Fear emanated off the man in waves, almost making Geralt sick to his stomach. He had done this and he wasn’t sure he could make it right.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know what you were. I thought your kind was long gone.” Geralt’s words spilled out, his hand reaching towards the man. 

This made the man stop and he glared at Geralt through tear-filled eyes. “Doesn’t mean you should go killing every animal you see just because you’re hungry.”

Geralt sighed. “I know.” 

“Is that all you have to say?” the man bit back. 

“Let me help you. Please.”

The man hesitated, furiously wiping his tears away as he judged Geralt. “Alright. I suppose if you wanted me dead you would have already done it.”

Geralt pursed his lips and knelt down by the man, careful with his actions. The man was easily startled, his body flinching at Geralt’s every move. When Geralt was finally able to lay his hands on the man, it was then he noticed how red his face was. 

“Breathe,” Geralt reminded, his hand pressing close to the wound. 

The man let out a low hiss, his fingers digging into the dirt as Geralt took hold of the arrow. In one swift movement, he yanked the arrow out and pressed his hand on top of the wound to counteract the bleeding. The man let out a choked sob, every inch of him shaking as he tried to pull away from Geralt. 

“You need to lay still,” Geralt murmured. 

He unhooked his cloak and pressed the fabric to the wound, using his free hand to pull out his dagger. The man visibly shivered at this, his eyes widening. 

“I’m just making a bandage for you,” Geralt explained as he braced one knee on the other end of the cloak and attempted to cut through the fabric. 

It was a rough cut, but Geralt managed to have enough fabric to tie it around the man’s leg, a tourniquet that would hold for now. Exhausted, the man lay back on the ground, his gaze up at the sky. Geralt could only watch, his words no longer having merit. 

“Do you know what I am?” the man asked. 

“I think so,” Geralt began. “A forest spirit, and an ancient one too, if I’m not mistaken.”

The man nodded, a cynical smile forming on his face. “It’s sad that we’ve had to hide so deeply, so secretly, that in turn we’ve been forgotten.”

“Self-preservation is important,” Geralt replied, finding a familiarity in the man’s words. 

To survive took priority, no matter the cost. In time, Geralt was sure witchers would become nothing more than rumors and perhaps he would find himself in this man’s place. 

“Take me to your camp,” the man cut through Geralt’s thoughts. “Let me rest there for the night and I shall be on my way in the morning.”

Geralt mulled this over, a part of him having hoped that this would be suggested. He didn’t want the man reopening the wound and Geralt consented with a nod. The man sat up then, wincing at the pain as Geralt gave him the remains of his cloak to cover himself with.

“I’ll carry you,” Geralt placed a hand on the man’s leg, waiting for his approval. 

He blinked at this before he gave Geralt a small smile and reached out to him. Tucking one arm under the man’s knees, Geralt’s other found its place wrapped around his back and he lifted him up easily, the man scrambling to wrap his arms around Geralt’s neck. 

“That was a ride,” the man commented, looking back towards where he had been laying. He smiled at Geralt, unfaltering even when he didn’t get one in return. “You can call me Jaskier.”

“Is your actual name that hard to pronounce?” Geralt asked as he began walking back to his camp. 

Jaskier smiled at this. “Are you well-versed in the old languages?”

“Not as well as I should be.”

“You’re honest, Witcher. A good trait.” There was a slight teasing in Jaskier’s voice and Geralt raised an eyebrow. 

For just being shot, Jaskier was in high spirits and towards Geralt too. It was suspicious at the very least, but Geralt was in no mood to make Jaskier upset all over again.

“Are all forest spirits like you?” Geralt asked, hoping to get more information out of Jaskier.

“No, most find me abhorrent,” Jaskier grinned. 

Geralt certainly had no doubts about that with his sudden amicable attitude. It was as if he was someone else entirely and that wasn’t a comforting thought.

“You’ve proven yourself to me. I can tell you’re a good man underneath your rough exterior,” Jaskier answered as if reading Geralt’s mind.

This rattled Geralt a little, but he did his best to hide it. If only Jaskier knew. Then again, if Jaskier was as old as Geralt was guessing, he’d probably seen the end of the world and then some.

It was a relief when they finally reached camp so Geralt could set Jaskier down and busy himself amongst the idle chatter. Jaskier didn’t stop for a second, recounting what he had been up to before Geralt popped up out of nowhere. 

“Now, do you have any questions for me, dear Witcher?”

Geralt ignored the term of endearment, choosing instead to exchange a look with Roach. Her ears flicked, nostrils flaring, and Geralt agreed with her. Even if it was just for one night, Jaskier was going to be a handful. 

“All right,” Jaskier filled in the silence. “I’ll just tell you about myself.”

Daring to look back at Jaskier, Geralt was immediately at a loss. Jaskier had laid himself near the remains of Geralt’s fire from the night before, stretching out as if he were on a bed of furs. A hand hovered over the ashes, a few clumps floating in the air as Jaskier twisted his fingers about. 

“Oh, don’t act so surprised. There’s still forest in these ashes.”

That hadn’t even been a concern for Geralt. With Jaskier laying directly on his wound, he wanted to tell the man to flip back over just so he could make sure it was healing properly. 

“And don’t worry about my wound either. My body is already taking care of it.”

“Do you read minds now?” Geralt muttered. 

Jaskier laughed, the sound filling the forest around them. “Not quite. Your stern looks say more than you think.” 

This made Geralt pause, his eyebrows furrowing as Jaskier laughed again. 

“There it is.” 

With a grunt, Geralt dug through his supplies, a bit disconcerted with how much meat his diet consisted of. Taking the last of the jerky for himself, he managed to find a few scraps of bread, which he then offered to Jaskier along with some water. 

“Sorry I don’t have anything better,” Geralt muttered, making sure Jaskier was able to sit up as he started eating.

“You need your energy,” Jaskier shrugged. “As much as hunting disgusts me, I know a witcher doesn’t have many options.”

“I’ll be sure to not hunt in your forest again. I’ll let others know as well.”

Jaskier smiled, bittersweetness hanging off the edges. “That’s very kind. I wish everyone could be like you.”

“You wouldn’t want that.” Geralt was tempted to laugh, but years of pain struck first and he could only frown. “Then the world would be filled with nothing but monsters.”

“Is that what you see yourself as?” Jaskier frowned. “I mean, yes, you shot me, but once you knew what I was, you helped me. Would a monster do that?”

Geralt wasn’t convinced, but he was too tired to argue with Jaskier. A part of him couldn’t help get caught up in the sincere words, the comfort Jaskier was giving him. He could feel Jaskier’s eyes on him and he shifted under the continuous staring. 

“I never caught your name by the way.”

“And you never shall,” Geralt smiled a little. “Not sure I can allow myself to be trapped in the spirit world forever.”

This got a laugh out of Jaskier and he perched his head on one hand. “Surely there must be some name I can call you besides ‘Witcher’.”

“You may call me Geralt then.”

“Geralt,” Jaskier repeated and Geralt was sure his name never sounded more lovely than when it left the other man’s lips. “You’re wiser than most men. Not letting me have any fun at all.”

“Really? I’m not?” Geralt smirked.

“Oh, you’re a right tease, you are.” There was a pause before Jaskier glanced down at his hands. “I’m glad we met, Geralt. Even if it wasn’t ideal, it’s been much too long since I’ve had a proper conversation with anyone.”

If Jaskier’s idea of conversation was this, Geralt feared he may have set a bad example. However, he wasn’t allowed to dwell on this as Jaskier began chatting about something else. 

How bright his soul shined, an almost child-like excitement glowing in his eyes. Jaskier had lived decades more than Geralt and yet it seemed the world hadn’t tarnished him. Geralt could only watch, manage small replies, as he became tangled up in this strange, beautiful man. 

If only they weren’t to part come morning. 

With hours of night still ahead, Geralt settled into the approaching dusk all while Jaskier talked about nothing and everything.

* * *

Geralt woke to humming.

Bolting upright, Geralt searched the clearing only to find Jaskier brushing Roach down, dressed in Geralt’s extra clothing. However, all Geralt could register was the fact that Roach was letting a complete stranger take care of her and a magical being at that. Her ears flickered towards Geralt and Jaskier was quick to turn around, greeting Geralt with a bright smile. 

“I’ve changed my mind,” Jaskier began, going back to brushing Roach. “I’m going to travel with you.”

“Why?” Geralt butted in, his mind already fussing over the consequences. 

“I like you,” Jaskier smiled. “And a new adventure might be nice.”

Geralt huffed, tilting his head forward in momentary frustration. “It’s dangerous. I can’t protect you at every turn.”

“I’m not expecting you to,” Jaskier waved. “I am a forest spirit after all. I can take care of myself. Look, my wound is already healed.”

That wasn’t the point, but Geralt had a feeling that whatever he said would be brushed to the side. 

“At least take me as far as the coast. Then you can see how you feel about me then.”

“Hm, quite the challenge you propose,” Geralt mulled over Jaskier’s words.

“Of course,” Jaskier teased. “What’s life without one or two?”

Geralt’s heart thumped in his chest and he found himself drowning in Jaskier’s piercing gaze. His decision had been made the moment he shot Jaskier with his arrow. Grumbling, Geralt got to his feet to clean up the camp only to find that everything had been taken care of besides his own bedroll. 

“The sooner we’re off the better, right?” Jaskier grinned, taking the half folded bedroll from Geralt’s hands. 

Their hands brushed and Geralt tried to ignore the shiver that ran up his spine. Geralt trailed after Jaskier, letting the man mess around with the buckles on his armor. It had been a while since someone was so quick to help him and Geralt could only follow as Jaskier commanded. Everything felt lighter, the armor, the day–even Roach had a new energy to her. 

Geralt figured in time he would learn just how strong Jaskier’s magic was. For now, he’d have to figure out this forest spirit amongst his scattered thoughts, his unending optimism. Surprising himself, Geralt found he did not mind.

The rest of the morning found Jaskier summoning a lute from nowhere, playing old tunes, creating nonsense songs amongst their conversation as they traveled. He had a knack for a great many things and Geralt tucked them all away to remember for later. By mid-afternoon, it seemed Jaskier grew tired of his human form and handed Geralt back his clothes before transforming. He drew himself up proudly on his hooves, his antlers glistening in the light as he let Roach inspect him. With a huff, Roach kept on walking and Geralt gave her a reassuring pat, knowing she’d come around in time. 

As for himself, Geralt knew his stubbornness would not hold out. Jaskier was wiggling into every inch of his life and whether it was loneliness or something else, Geralt was more than happy to let him do so. 

He let himself admire Jaskier as they carried on down the road, an adventure laying itself ahead of them. For anyone passing by, it surely was a sight to see, a witcher on his steed while a golden deer trotted alongside them.

**Author's Note:**

> tempted to make this a long fic but idk where i'd go with it
> 
> [Witcher Blog](http://fromkaermorhentolettenhove.tumblr.com)


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